


They Never Built These Places With Winter In Mind

by Topaz_Eyes



Category: X Company
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bathtubs, Canon-Typical Violence, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22459126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topaz_Eyes/pseuds/Topaz_Eyes
Summary: “You need to start showing some respect for me.”"Yeah, Cummings?  What are you gonna do to earn it?"
Relationships: Tom Cummings/Neil Mackay
Kudos: 8





	They Never Built These Places With Winter In Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “How I Spent My Fall Vacation”, music and lyrics by Bruce Cockburn, copyright 1980 True North Records

It was already an hour past curfew when Tom and Harry finally reached the safe house.

Tom pounded on the door, just barely remembering to pause briefly after the third and fifth knocks. Alfred opened the door just wide enough to allow them access. They slipped inside and Alfred closed the door before they could call any attention from the street.

Winded, Harry and Tom leaned against the wall in the hallway opposite each other and doubled over, hands on knees to catch their breath. Aurora strode out from the kitchen at the back and stared at them, her eyes already forming the question before her voice caught up.

“Where’s Neil?”

Harry whirled around towards the door; no one else was there. “He was right behind me,” Harry said, panting, “I swear he was right behind me!”

Tom swallowed hard, forcing himself to think back. “We were together when we left the depot,” he said.

“Maybe Neil stayed behind to cover you?” Alfred asked, looking at each of them in turn. “Or draw them away?”

“I don’t know. But he’s still out there, we have to go find him,” Tom said. He hadn’t yet fully recovered, but he headed towards the door anyway, Harry and Alfred falling in right behind him.

But Aurora crowded in beside him and seized his arm just as he was about to turn the doorknob.

“No, I won’t allow it.”

The group stopped short. Alfred and Harry stepped back, caught in between. Tom tried to break free, but Aurora tightened her grip.

“Aurora,” Tom protested, trying to reason with her, “he could be lost, he could be wounded, he could be –” Tom swallowed hard; he couldn’t bring himself to say it. _He could be face down in a ditch. And it would be my fault for leaving him behind._

“If we go out now, we risk the same thing,” Aurora said, fighting to keep her voice calm. “SS patrols are everywhere. After the explosion they’ll be searching for all of us. Our best chance to find Neil is to wait until morning. We’ll look for him once curfew has lifted.”

Tom shook his head vehemently, not believing that she was refusing to allow them to attempt rescue. “That could be too late –”

 _“Tom.”_ He stared at her, furious and frustrated as she continued, “Neil’s a soldier, he’s well trained to look after himself. In the meantime he would want us to stay here, stay safe. He would not want us risking our lives for him.”

Tom glowered at her, hearing her words but not registering them. Aurora took a deep breath. “We stay here and wait for Neil to return,” she repeated, holding his gaze.

Harry and Alfred glanced back and forth at each other, and at Tom and Aurora’s locked stance. “That’s an order,” Aurora said firmly. _“Stand down_ , Tom.”

Harry and Alfred exchanged glances again, then stepped back. Tom continued to glare at her for a long, protesting moment, but Aurora refused to budge.

Ultimately he had to relent, or risk disobeying his squad sergeant. “Yes, _ma’am,_ ” he said finally, voice dripping with resentment. He yanked his arm out of her grasp.

Aurora nodded curtly. “Boys, go get some rest,” she said, “I’ll keep watch.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Tom said. Aurora studied him, considering, then nodded her agreement.

“We all will,” Alfred offered.

Aurora shook her head at that. “No. Alfred, Harry, I need you both rested for tomorrow. But I promise we will let you know as soon as Neil returns.”

Alfred and Harry retired, if reluctantly. Aurora perched on the window sill of the darkened front room, by the closed drape, occasionally glimpsing between the panels to peer through the darkness. Tom drank a glass of water from the kitchen, then began to pace through the apartment: back and forth down the main hall at first, followed by a restless circuit from kitchen to front room, around the furniture and back again.

“You should try to get some sleep too, Tom,” Aurora said gently after a few minutes.

“I can’t sleep,” he admitted. Exhaustion ate at him, but guilt and worry gave him too much energy to lie down. He needed to do _something_. Since he wasn’t allowed to search for Neil, pacing was all he had left.

“So tell me what happened after you left the munitions station,” she said.

As he paced, Tom tried to review the events after Harry remote-detonated the 808 in the depot. “We left the factory but heard shouts just as we rounded the corner. The Gestapo saw us and chased us down the alley. The three of us were keeping pace.”

“What happened after the alley?”

“We jumped a fence and turned right towards the market square for more cover. We split up and took three different paths and were going to meet on the other side.” He plotted the map from memory, his eyes darting back and forth. “But another platoon of Boche tried to box us in from the other end and we narrowed back to the middle. We reached the main street and cut to the next alley, but we heard shots, and — we hightailed it. Didn’t realize Neil fell behind until we got here,” he ended with a dejected exhale.

“So we can’t be certain right now if he was captured or not,” Aurora mused.

“Maybe,” Tom said. “I hope you’re right that he wasn’t caught. Because you know what they’ll do to him if he was.”

“We can’t assume anything. And we also can’t give up hope,” she said.

Aurora was right, of course, and he desperately wanted to cling to her assurance. His fatigue finally caught up to him; he completed one last round of pacing, then headed to an overstuffed chair opposite Aurora’s window perch. He sank into it and leaned against the headrest with a sigh. He and Neil and Aurora and Harry had begun their training as the first set of Camp recruits in February, along with Rene. Alfred joined them in mid-April after Villemarie. At this point he’d known Alfred only for a couple of weeks, but he seemed to be a good man. Alfred was scared out of his wits most of the time, like the rest of them were, but he kept trying and that meant everything.

Well, the rest of them except Neil. Tom didn’t think Neil knew the meaning of the word scared. The man seemed fucking fearless, his conviction backed by the righteous fury of God. Tom envied that as much as he admired it.

When the hell had he started hero-worshipping Neil Mackay, Tom wondered with a start. Neil only barely tolerated him and in truth Tom wasn’t much fond of him either. He knew perfectly well how Neil believed Tom was too soft-hearted for this work. Just as Tom was convinced that Neil went too far the other way.

Still he clenched his fists to keep his hands from shaking. Col. Sinclair had said the average life expectancy of an agent in the field was six weeks. They’d lost Rene, their team leader prior to Aurora, on their very first trip out of the nest to Villemarie. Including field training, they were already more than three weeks in.

“He’ll return, Tom,” Aurora said, startling him out of his reverie. “I have every faith he will walk through that door by morning.”

“Yeah,” Tom said dully, “of course he will.”

“You can’t blame yourself. He knew the risks of the mission.”

Tom pinned her with a frank, worried gaze. “We’ve only been in France for ten days, Aurora. We’ve just started to gel as a team. No offence, but—if Neil gets cut down tonight what chance do the rest of us have?”

Aurora only peered at him and sighed heavily. “Get some rest,” she said, and peeked out the window again to search the empty, darkened street.

~~

Some time later, Tom startled awake in the chair at the sound of rapping on the front door.

Three. Two. One.

_Neil._

Aurora flew to the door and threw the deadbolt open, Tom just a step behind her. She opened the door.

“Oh my God, Neil,” she breathed.

He stood in the doorway, one arm bracing himself up against the jamb. He was exhausted and his clothes were covered in filth, but he was very much alive. A wave of relief washed over Tom so strongly he had to clutch at the arm of the deacon’s bench in the hall for a second to collect himself.

“Let a man in, yeah?”

Aurora stepped aside, and Neil staggered across the threshold to collapse into Tom’s already waiting arms. Tom caught him and sagged briefly under his weight.

“Whoa there, big guy, we got you,” Tom said.

Aurora closed the door quickly behind her and locked it again as Tom helped Neil to the bench. “What happened to you? Are you hurt?” Aurora said. She began to pat him down, feeling for broken bones.

Still trying to catch his breath, Neil could only shake his head. He didn’t seem hurt. Physically, anyway. “I’m all right,” he said after a moment between panting breaths. “Just winded.”

A few moments later, he’d recovered enough to pull himself upright, albeit with difficulty. Neil and Aurora exchanged glances; Aurora’s expression tightened, and she nodded.

“All right, I’ll take your debrief now. Tom, go draw a bath for Neil, please,” Aurora said.

Tom recognized his dismissal; overwhelmingly grateful, he fled upstairs to the bathroom on the first landing. Once in the bathroom and alone, his hands shook badly as he stoppered the tub and turned on the faucet. The hot water streamed out of the spigot and steam billowed upwards to fill the room.

As much as he dearly wanted to listen to Neil’s debriefing, to learn what had happened, he thought he couldn’t handle it, either. All he knew was that whatever had happened to Neil tonight was on his head. He should have paid closer attention to what was going on behind him. You don’t leave a man behind like that, he berated himself. You just don’t.

When the tub was about half-full, he turned off the hot water and added cold until it had cooled enough not to burn when he tested the temperature with his elbow. He returned downstairs to assist Neil, hoping the debrief had finished.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said, standing on the second-lowest stair.

“You’re dismissed, Neil,” Aurora said, patting his arm. Neil gazed up the narrow steps and his mouth twisted.

“I’m not gonna make it up those stairs by myself,” Neil admitted.

“Okay.” Tom came down all the way, stood beside Neil, took his arm and slung it across his shoulder. Neil leaned heavily against him and together they struggled up the first flight of steps and limped into the bathroom.

He sat Neil down on the closed toilet seat and double-checked the water temperature. In the meantime, Neil shrugged out of his suspenders and gingerly unfastened his shirt buttons. In the closed, damp, cramped room, his clothes and boots stank to high heaven, covered in dirt and blood and matter Tom didn’t want to think about. Tom tried not to inhale too deeply.

“We’ll have to burn your clothes,” Tom said. “Hope you’re not wearing your favourite kerchief.”

Neil snorted at that. He winced as he peeled off his shirt. “Fucking Christ,” he gasped.

Tom jumped to his side, instantly alert. “You okay?”

“It’s nothing,” Neil demurred, “pulled muscle is all.” Tom highly doubted that was true.

“You can go now,” Neil added sharply.

Tom prickled under Neil’s curt dismissal. “You can barely undress yourself,” Tom pointed out with forced calm, “and I doubt you could even climb into the tub on your own.”

“I’m perfectly capable of undressing—” Neil immediately gasped in pain as he bent over to untie his bootlaces.

“No, you’re not,” Tom said, ignoring Neil’s protest. “So you’re going to let me help you. Got it?”

“Fine.” When he straightened, his annoyance was unmistakable, but the beads of sweat that dotted his forehead belied his condition. Neil was a lot more injured than he was willing to let on.

“Besides, there’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Tom added with a shrug. Which was true; the men’s showers back at the Camp had afforded no privacy. Neil rolled his eyes, but acquiesced. Tom knelt down to untie Neil’s bootlaces, holding his breath at the stench emanating from them. Neil’s feet began to swell the moment Tom pulled his boots off.

“You’re going to need another pair,” Tom said after examining their battered condition. “These are completely shot.”

Tom next tugged off Neil’s sodden trousers, pants, and socks, watching how Neil raised himself only with difficulty. “Undershirt, too,” Tom said. “Arms up.” Neil glared at him, but reluctantly, he lifted his arms to allow Tom to pull the sweat-soaked garment over his head.

On closer inspection, Neil’s torso, thighs, and calves were covered in angry red welts. “Jesus, Neil,” Tom said, aghast, “what the hell happened?”

“Fell,” he replied, but didn’t elaborate further.

Tom pursed his lips. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to let Tom see him undress. It was clear that Neil was not going to acknowledge that he’d been beaten, probably with a truncheon. “Come on, your bath’s ready,” he said gently, standing up and holding out his arms again. “I’ll help you in.”

Neil scowled at Tom for a moment, but then grabbed onto his elbows and pulled himself to standing. Tom steadied him while he stepped over the high walls of the tub. He hissed when his sore feet splashed through the water.

“Too hot?”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s perfect.” He sighed and lowered himself down slowly until he was sitting in the water.

There was a light tap on the door. Tom rose to open it, where Harry stood, holding a tray covered with a checkered cloth.

“Aurora sent me up with this,” Harry said. He tried to peer around Tom, but Tom blocked most of the doorway to hide Neil from view.

With Tom’s back turned, Neil took a deep breath and slid down into the bath water until he was fully immersed. He probably didn’t want Harry to see the extent of his injuries, Tom thought; didn’t want the kid to feel guiltier than he already felt.

“How is he?” Harry asked in a low voice.

“He’s a bit sore, but he’ll be okay,” Tom replied. He pasted on a reassuring smile. “You don’t need to worry.”

Harry nodded and passed the tray to Tom, who set it on top of the sink. Tom gathered Neil’s clothes and said, “Take these to the furnace, make sure nothing’s left of them.” He gave the ball of filthy clothing to Harry.

“Ewww.” Harry’s face twisted with disgust; he held the stinking lump as far away from him as he could. “That’s gross. What about his boots?”

“I’ll put them outside in the hall. Just clean them best you can until we can find him new ones.”

“Aurora’s arranged for us to stay here another day for Neil to recover.”

“That’s good. I’ll let him know. Thanks.”

“Hey Neil, hope you’re feeling better,” Harry called out. He retreated down the stairs with the fetid bundle; Tom dropped the boots in the hall and closed the bathroom door with a click. At that point, Neil resurfaced, sliding upwards against the slope of the tub before Tom could turn around.

Tom sat himself back on the closed toilet seat. “Why are you still here?” Neil said sourly. “Never asked for a nursemaid.”

“Aurora sent up some food,” Tom said, ignoring the surly tone. “Do you want to eat now or wait ‘til you’re done cleaning up?”

“Did she send up some whisky?”

Tom reached over to the sink on top of which the tray rested. He picked up a small silver flask and waved it at him.

“Give it here.”

Tom passed it over; Neil drew a long pull from the flask and handed it back. Tom set it back on the tray, resisting the urge to take a swig himself.

“How’s the water? Still warm enough?”

“All right.”

An awkward silence fell. Tom swivelled away on the toilet seat, facing the wall in an attempt to give Neil some shred of privacy, and pointedly studied his fingernails. He didn’t have to stay, he silently acknowledged; he really should wait outside until Neil called for assistance. But a large part of him still couldn’t move beyond the thought that they could’ve lost Neil for good earlier tonight.

It felt stupid, but he didn’t want to stray too far from him right now.

Soon he heard telltale splashing, water squeezed from a washcloth, Neil shifting himself in the bath, and the occasional hiss of pain, followed a few minutes later by a pained, “Fucking hell.”

“Everything okay?” Tom didn’t turn around though.

“It’d be better with more whisky,” Neil said peevishly.

Tom reached over and grabbed the flask. He had to turn around to hand it to him; out of the corner of his eye he caught Neil grimacing as he tried to reach around his shoulder to his back with a washcloth.

“Here, I’ll wash your back,” Tom offered after Neil took another long swallow.

Neil shrugged, wincing again as he handed the flask back; Tom interpreted it as permission. He pulled a clean washcloth from a stack of linen under the sink, wet it under fresh hot water from the faucet, then rubbed the bar of soap on it to a lather. Neil bowed his head and hunched forward. Tom knew he chafed at needing his help, and he’d probably resent it too if their places were reversed.

He refused to apologize, though. He placed the warm, wet cloth between Neil’s shoulder blades. Tom rubbed the cloth gently over his skin, noting the tightness of his back and neck muscles underneath and the location of red marks that would most definitely form bruises by morning. Neil visibly sagged, letting go a faint sigh.

Tom began to massage the knots out under the guise of scrubbing his skin, carefully avoiding the more tender red spots. As he did, he felt Neil loosen up further under his palms. He stretched and rolled his shoulders as his muscles relaxed.

“Must’ve been a hell of a fight,” Tom said carefully; curiosity was beginning to overpower his nerves.

Neil only replied with another noncommittal shrug. Tom noted how he seemed to move easier, however, and felt a little better. At least he could do something useful to help make up for leaving him behind, he thought.

Tom massaged as far as he could reach, then plunged the washcloth into the bathwater to wet it again. He rinsed Neil’s back, noting how the water was beginning to cool.

“And we’re done,” Tom announced.

“Cheers, Tom.” Neil sounded more at ease than at any point since he’d returned.

“I’ll get you some fresh clothes,” Tom said.

“Appreciate it,” Neil said.

Tom was rummaging through the contents of Neil’s rucksack in their assigned shared bedroom on the second floor when Aurora showed up and leaned on the doorjamb. “How’s he doing?”

Tom didn’t look up at her. “He’s pretty beat up,” Tom said. “Bruised all over, feet swollen.” He found a smaller cloth bag inside, closed with a drawstring. “Looks like he was in some sort of confrontation.”

Aurora sighed as if expecting that answer. “Has he said anything to you?”

“Nope.” Tom pulled the drawstring open to find neatly rolled pieces of clean clothing inside. Jackpot.

“I want you to stay with him tonight.”

Tom looked up at that. “Any particular reason?” he asked, carefully studying Aurora’s face for any revealing clue why she’d make the request. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Aurora replied, “but I think he might appreciate some company.”

Of course Aurora wasn’t going to divulge what Neil had said in his debriefing with her. “Am I supposed to find out anything?”

Like Neil would ever confide anything in him, he added silently. Even after months of training and working together, Neil wasn’t what he’d call forthcoming with his feelings to anyone. Anger, humour, and impatience seemed to be the extent of his emotional repertoire.

“No. Just be there in case he needs someone to listen.” Aurora wiped her face to stifle a yawn, revealing the extent of her own exhaustion.

“You should get some sleep, Aurora,” he said. “I’ll make sure he’s comfortable.”

“Thank you. Good night, Tom.” She left the room.

Tom picked up the clean clothing and headed downstairs, back to the bathroom. But as he approached the first landing, everything sounded eerily quiet within.

Suddenly nervous, he knocked on the closed door. “Neil?”

There was no response. There were no sounds of splashing or any other movement. He tried again with increasing dread. “Mackay?”

 _Nonono oh Christ please no_. Tom’s heart leapt into his throat. He opened the door--

Neil had slid underwater in the bath again, his eyes closed.

This time it looked like he’d been there awhile.

 _Jesus._ “Neil!” He dropped the clothes at the threshold. He reached the tub in two strides and leaned over the side to haul him to the surface. _“Neil!”_

Neil thrashed the second Tom tried to hook his hands under his arms. He flailed and hit Tom square in the ear as he resurfaced, spluttering.

“For fuck’s sake, Tom!” he said between bouts of coughing. “Let go, you bastard!”

“What the hell were you doing?” Tom could feel his heartbeat pounding triple-time in his chest.

“I was rinsing off the rest of the soap!”

“Really? Sure as hell didn’t look like it to me!”

Neil peered at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You were underwater.” The panic bled out, his energy with it, and Tom sank onto the toilet seat, unable to control his shaking. “You weren’t moving,” he added in a near-whisper.

“Jesus, Tom, what in bloody hell do you take me for?” Neil appeared genuinely shocked.

They both looked up at the terrified rap on the open door. “Hey! Are you guys okay?” Harry was leaning in against the jamb, panicking now. “I heard splashing and shouting– ”

Neil sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We’re fine, Harry. Just a misunderstanding.”

Uncertain, Harry glanced between Neil and Tom, who’d dropped his head in his hands. “You sure?”

Tom looked up. “We’re sure. It’s okay, Harry.”

Frowning with disbelief, Harry glanced back and forth between them, but both men held their ground. Finally Harry nodded, relenting. “Okay,” he said. “Will you let me know though if you need anything? Anything at all.”

“Absolutely.”

“Good night, then, guys.” He slipped away back upstairs without a sound.

Poor kid, Tom thought; even with all the continuing reassurance from everyone that he had done the right thing, he’d feel guilty for awhile. About as guilty as Tom himself felt for not going out to search for Neil earlier.

On the bright side, Harry’s interruption helped Tom gain some badly needed time to pull himself together after that horrific scare. “Let me know when you’re ready to go back to your room,” he said once he felt his shaking subside.

Neil apparently wasn’t done with berating him, however. “So you can tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?” he mocked. “Gonna hold my hand and stay ’til I fall asleep as well?”

Tom opened his mouth to tell him off, but suddenly paused, recognizing the brittle undertone in Neil’s words. “You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he said softly.

That hit home; Neil stared at him, mouth agape for several seconds before he snorted back a disbelieving laugh. “Someone has to be in this lot,” he retorted.

At any other time, Neil’s insult would have rolled off his back, but Tom was still so on edge with what just happened, it felt like a slap in his face. “You know, Neil, I’ve had enough of your asshole comments about the rest of us,” Tom said, bristling.

“I’ve had enough of your fucking useless hovering!” Neil shot back.

Tom stalked over to the tub to loom over him. “And I’m sick of your holier-than-thou attitude. You need to start showing some respect for me.”

Neil’s expression hardened and he glared daggers right back at him. “Yeah, Cummings? What are you gonna do to earn it?”

Tom drew in a sharp breath, but before he could even think about what he was doing, he seized the back of Neil’s head and leaned down to press their lips together.

Neil’s mouth was soft, pliant, his lips wet from the water; he tasted of whisky and _savon de Marseille_. To Tom’s surprised delight, Neil didn’t struggle, or try to pull away. Tom instinctively deepened the kiss, licking along the edge of Neil’s lips until they parted and he slipped his tongue inside until they met and twined--

At that point Tom returned to his senses and pulled back with an unpleasant start. Neil was staring at him, wide-eyed and not a little stunned. “Shit,” Tom whispered. He let Neil go and backed off, exhaling a shuddering breath. _Shit._

He turned away from the tub and braced himself on the sink, bowing his head and struggling not to pound the porcelain with his fists. God damn it. Neil was nothing if not a stickler for rules and regs. The instructors at the Camp had been adamant about the consequences of fraternizing with the same sex.

He was fucked now. He’d have to prostrate himself at Neil’s feet and beg his mercy. He’d be lucky to escape with a dishonourable discharge after this.

“Hey, I’m sorry, that was completely uncalled for --” he began miserably.

“Tom.”

“Yeah, I know that was inappropriate. I’ll talk to Aurora tomorrow and see about getting transferred out of the unit.”

“ _Tom._ Turn around and look at me, would you.”

Neil surprisingly didn’t sound angry at all, or even upset. Tom swallowed hard and shook his head. “I can’t,” he admitted. He couldn’t stop himself trembling. He silently cursed Aurora for putting him in this position, for depending on him as the only other person on the team capable of handling Neil when he could barely handle himself. And he cursed himself for letting his emotions fly so out of control in the moment.

“Turn around, Cummings, that’s an order.”

Of course Tom would have forgotten Neil was a corporal and thus actually did out-rank him, too. He tensed, then slowly, reluctantly did as ordered. “Pulling rank on me now, _sir_?” he said. He still had trouble meeting Neil’s eyes.

“Not that I want to.”

At that Tom did meet Neil’s gaze head on. To Tom’s shock, Neil’s mouth had quirked in a small, enigmatic half-smile. “That’s better,” he added, with a glint of amusement.

Tom shook his head. “Look, I didn’t mean --”

“Shut up and come back here, will ya.”

Tom blinked, but Neil’s gaze was steady, and, he noted distantly, darker than before. Warily he crossed the two steps to the tub. At Neil’s gesture, he crouched beside it until they were eye level.

Neil continued to regard him for a moment, as if making a decision; then he reached out to cup Tom’s cheek with surprising tenderness.

 _The hell?_ Tom’s eyes widened at the touch. “You’re not going to report me?”

Neil shook his head and sniffed back a laugh. “Have to report myself then too, wouldn’t I.”

Shock gave way and Tom sighed with relief, the weight lifting; he closed his eyes and leaned against Neil’s palm. Neil leaned his forehead against Tom’s, his own breath sounding a little rushed. Neil stroked Tom’s cheek with his little finger; they soon progressed to nuzzling each other, then Neil closed the distance a second time.

Their second kiss was harder, more searching. Tom moaned with the welcome pressure against his lips. Neil eased his mouth open and slipped his tongue inside, picking up where Tom had left off.

Tom was fully aware of how close they were, how Neil was completely naked in the tub, and when they pulled back for air, how his trousers had tightened against his crotch. When Tom glanced down into the tub, Neil was already there, his cock jutting in the water.

How about that, Tom thought.

Tom reached down, balancing against Neil’s shoulder, and plunged his hand into the now-lukewarm water to grasp Neil, his thumb rubbing lightly under the tip of his cock. Neil’s breath hitched, puffing warm and rich with whisky across Tom’s face. Tom stroked him once, twice, smirking at how Neil tensed up in pleasure and arched against his fingers. Yeah, Neil wanted this. And he did, too.

“Feel good?” Tom quipped.

“Not too bad,” he said. Tom rolled his eyes, noting how Neil pulsed and leaned into him as he stroked. He smirked again at Neil’s hum of approval as he rolled his fingers over the tip.

After awhile though, bending over the curved side of the tub grew increasingly uncomfortable; the water cooled enough that Neil began to shiver, and Tom felt his back twinge with the effort of reaching down. He let Neil go and straightened.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you, never start something you don’t intend to finish?” Neil said, frowning.

“I always finish what I start,” Tom replied amiably. “But it might be more comfortable in the bedroom. Warmer and not to mention less noisy.”

Neil huffed, conceding that point. “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

“Ready to get out now?”

“Yeah, sure.” He knocked the tub stopper out with his toe and the two of them listened to the gurgle of dirty water through the drain and into the pipe.

Neil was still unsteady on his feet though; Tom had to brace Neil as he stepped out of the tub. And Tom’s clothes were wet now, but he figured he’d be shedding them soon enough anyway. Neil gingerly rubbed himself dry with the towel, then wrapped it around his hips. Tom quickly tidied the bathroom in the meantime, wiped up the water that had splashed on the floor, and stuffed Neil’s clean undershirt and briefs he’d fetched in his pockets.

The hallway was mercifully empty when Tom peeked out. Neil by this point was mostly moving under his own power, climbing the eight steps slowly but surely, so he grabbed the food tray and followed. They slipped into the bedroom Aurora had assigned to them on the second floor. The room had one double bed, a dresser, and not much else. After the humidity in the bath, the air was chilly. Neil dropped the towel on the floor; Tom closed the door behind him, set the tray down on the dresser, and helped Neil slide into bed. He then quickly undressed, shivering in the cold and trying hard not to notice how Neil gazed at him ravenously.

He joined him under the covers, adjusting himself until both were lying on their sides facing each other. “So where were we?” he asked once he was settled in.

Neil brazenly took Tom’s hand and put it on his already-erect cock, wrapping his own around Tom’s. “Here, pretty much.”

Tom hardened again almost instantly with the touch and he canted forward into Neil’s fist. “I think that’s a little further than where we were in the bathroom,” he pointed out.

“We were getting there eventually.” They shared a quick chuckle at that.

Neil’s gaze darted down to Tom’s mouth, and he closed the distance again, his lips sliding from Tom’s mouth, along Tom’s jaw and up towards his ear. Tom’s eyes fluttered closed; he hummed appreciatively, closing his fingers around Neil, and they began to stroke each other. They were both tentative at first, both adjusting to touching each other like this, but it didn’t take long to find a rhythm, hips rocking in tandem with their hands. They gasped into each other’s mouths once their lips met again.

This wasn’t quite how Tom had imagined “staying the night” would go, but he wasn’t about to complain. Neil hefted them over onto Tom’s back; Tom needed no urging to part his legs open for him. Neil knelt in between and aligned their cocks; they rubbed together, hips pumping slowly at first, ratcheting up as their raw need stoked hotter and hotter. _Christ_ but Tom had never expected such ardour from Neil Mackay of all people. Tom clutched Neil’s biceps, arching upwards to match every press and thrust in his groin in search of more.

Neil leaned down and kissed him again, plundering Tom’s mouth, hungry and deep. Tom returned each desperate kiss in kind; it might’ve been rough and unpracticed, but _holy fuck_ he throbbed with how Neil slid against him, heated and slick with exertion. He lost himself in the weight of Neil’s body eagerly grinding him into the mattress, while the musky tang of sweat and joint arousal wafted around them under the sheets.

Blindly Tom pushed off the top cover, grabbed Neil’s ass cheeks, and bucked against him, desperate for relief. It didn’t take long until Tom groaned against Neil’s collarbone and came, jetting slippery warmth between their bellies. Neil followed him right after, grunting into the side of Tom’s neck as his release mingled with Tom’s.

Neil sank on top of Tom as the aftershocks faded, nibbling lightly along Tom’s jaw. Tom raised his arms to encircle Neil’s back and shoulders, loathe to let this unexpected closeness between them end. But despite his best efforts, the world rushed back into awareness as they lay together catching their breaths.

“How long have you wanted to do this?” Tom asked a few minutes later, curious, when Neil lifted his head off of Tom’s shoulder to look at him.

Neil’s half-smile of contentment faded, and something shuttered behind his eyes. “Does it matter?” He raised himself fully off of Tom and laid on his back, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I mean, if this was about life-affirming sex, or blowing off steam, or about trying to forget what happened--”

Neil’s mouth drew into a thin line, and he turned his head away. “Call it what you want,” he said, his voice hardened.

“Just so I know where we stand going forward,” Tom finished.

Neil turned over again to face Tom, his eyes narrowed. “That’s a fishing expedition if ever I heard one. What else do you want to know, Tom?”

Tom winced at the angry challenge in his glare, but he stood his ground. “Whatever you’re willing to tell me. But I’m not going to make you--”

Neil snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, right. Did Aurora put you up to this?”

Here we go. Tom struggled to contain his hurt over the accusation. “She asked me to stay with you because she’s concerned about you. We all are – ”

“So the shagging was about getting me to spill my guts?”

Tom’s jaw dropped open for a moment as if he’d been punched in the stomach. “You’re a goddamn piece of work, Mackay,” Tom snapped, and he sat up to leave. “I do not have to put up with this shit from you. Deal with your own mess.”

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and was just about to rise when Neil grabbed his forearm. “Tom.”

Tom tried to yank his arm away, but Neil tightened his grip.

“All right. Do you want to know how many Boche it took to bring me down? How many punches it took to knock me out cos I was fighting for my bloody life? How many prisoners were in the same cell with me when I woke up? How many of them were dead already?” Neil’s voice was tight.

Tom paused, then sighed. He opened his mouth to answer, but Neil continued.

“Or do you want to know how close you and Harry came to being captured with me?”

Tom blinked at that and turned to look at Neil. He hadn’t really considered that before. “How close?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Neil stared past Tom at the opposite wall with a glazed, far-away look as if reliving the event. “Two steps. If I hadn’t tripped the bastards, you and Harry would’ve been caught with me. You wouldn’t’ve made it. They were shooting anyone who looked younger than thirty.”

Tom swallowed hard as the realization hit him. “Jesus,” he whispered.

Neil let go of Tom’s arm and scrubbed his face with his hand. When he looked at Tom again, he appeared beyond exhaustion, his eyes shadowed by the horror of the memory. Tom had never seen that expression on his face before. His own anger drained away, and he climbed back into bed.

“I’m sorry, Neil,” Tom said, forcing himself to meet Neil’s haunted eyes. “I didn’t know. We owe you our lives. I—I guess I should thank you.”

One side of Neil’s mouth briefly turned up with acknowledgement. “You would’ve done the same.”

“Neil, for once just let me--”

“S’all right, Tom. No harm done.”

That’s not true, Tom thought, observing how the smile did not reach Neil’s eyes. Not by a long shot and we both know it. Wondering what he could possibly do to make up for it, he reached out to caress Neil’s flank, taking care to avoid the incipient bruises blooming along his ribs. Neil tensed at the touch, but didn’t push him away. Tom continued down his skin, over his abs towards his navel, trailing through the now-sticky remnants of their first coupling. Neil’s muscles trembled under his fingertips; his cock pulsed as he brushed against the head.

It wasn’t much, but he could offer this, Tom thought. “You know you don’t have to be strong all the time,” he repeated softly. He fixed his gaze on Neil’s face to study his reaction.

Something deep within Neil broke at last, and he released a pent-up, shuddering breath. “I want to forget what happened tonight, mate,” he murmured, his eyes painfully bleak. “I don’t care how. Just help me forget.”

Tom nodded and scooted in closer, taking him in his fist as he leaned his forehead against Neil’s. “Okay,” he murmured against his lips, stroking him back to full hardness, “okay.”


End file.
